Blood of the Healers
by fairy-colors
Summary: -NEW STORY- Living in seclusion for most part of her life because of her indeterminable powers as a subractive healer, Iradiel suddenly finds herself healing the fatally wounded Prince of Mirkwood.
1. Prologue Tears of Blood

**Disclaimer:** All LOTR characters belong to JRR Tolkien. The story is not completely ME-formatted thus many adjustments are made. Spin-off creatures and powers borrowed from T. Goodkind's characters from the Sword of the Truth series.

**A/N:** This is my first story in originally titled, **Spirits Within**. The original story was abandoned after only 6 short chapters but had a good plot so I'm reviving it through _Blood of the Healers_. Enjoy and tell me what you think. :)

* * *

**Prologue - Tears of Blood**

Luthaliel stroked her daughter's midnight blue locks as she gasped for another breath to sustain her. It pained her to know that at seven hundred winters past since her daughter's birth, she was to leave her. She was not yet an adult, merely a child so near being orphaned. _So soon. Too soon. I haven't taught her everything..._ Luthaliel thought gazing lovingly at her daughter who was trying to hold back her tears, glazing over her olive green eyes turning them into pools of wet moss.

"Mother, why can't they heal you? Gandalf must surely know how to stop this poison from taking...taking you away," Iradiel Auvreatylar whispered, her words halting, trying to hold on to strands of hope that even she knew would break any moment. 

"It is too late child, I cannot breathe anymore. This is our curse, to die because of others' pains and wounds, you know this Iradiel," Luthaliel said, clasping her daughter's hand on her own. "It was my fault, I brought the poison from his body to my own," she added, trying to make her daughter know that it wasn't the man's fault for her death but her own.

"You didn't have to heal him, he is merely a human! To die is _his_ destiny, not ours! It is because of his own folly that he failed to know which plant can make him ill!" Iradiel cried bitterly, remembering how that same man was outside their house with Gandalf being consoled as well that it was not his fault that the healer who brought him back from the throes of pain was herself dying. "Father was right, we aren't supposed to help them! It is because of them that we suffer!"

"Iradiel, do not speak of our gift as if it were a disease," Luthaliel reprimanded softly. "We belong to the highest order of healers in Middle Earth and it is our _duty_ to save lives. I am sorry I wouldn't...be able to stay with you longer," Luthaliel gasped for dear life, closing her eyes.

"Mother!--"

Luthaliel half-opened her eyes and whispered, "The afterlife is calling on to me to leave, little one...Oh Valar, you need to learn so much more but for someone so young, you already despise who you are."

Tears finally spilled from Iradiel's eyes, pleading for her mother to fight the potent poison that was ravaging her body since early that morning. "It is because of people like him," she furiously pointed outside to where the man was, "that I cannot love what you and atar have given me! I cannot accept something that has taken both my parents from me, 'tis not a gift but a curse that would kill me when a wrong poison enters my body!" she reasoned painfully.

"Do not worry about making mistakes Iradiel, you are stronger than your father or I. You know this," she reminded her weeping daughter. Luthaliel stroked her daughter's pale cheek, "Remember that it is who you are, and in every work you will do, you will make your father and I proud. Do not weep anymore Iradiel for I will _always_ be with you. Know that we will always love you." 

And with those words, Luthaliel Auvreatylar exhaled her last breath. Iradiel choked back a strangled cry as she weeped silently for the remaining person in Middle Earth whom she truly loved and loved her back in return. From that moment on, she knew she cannot live the life her parents had, healing people who were injured, sick and dying. For all of the potential in her healing abilities, she knew that life was not for her.

Iradiel heard the door to their little cottage open with a creak. _Gandalf._ "Atar's dead," she whispered softly, looking up to the man her father called his dearest friend.

"I know, little one. Luthaliel flew with the wind above me outside," the old man's rough and emotional voice cut through both of their pain. First, it was Daeuhar Auvreatlyar's death a decade back then Luthaliel's own life. He placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her but she remained silent. "I'm sorry Iradiel, she was the finest healer there was."

"We could have saved her, we could have," she said angrily, more to herself than to Gandalf.

"If we could have, we would have done it. But you know there was already no hope, it was a more potent poison than what Deauhar had." Gandalf reached for a wooden chair near the fireplace and sat next to Iradiel. He looked at Luthaliel and brushed a lock of her flaxen hair from her face and continued tiredly, "You can go to Rivendell with us dear one, Lord Elrond knew your mother."

Iradiel wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, "Nay. I will stay here. This is the only world I know and where my memories of them are."

"Very well then," Gandalf said, knowing that there was no arguing with the grief-stricken elven maid next to him. He reached for his small pack and fished out a silver band. "Your mother and father gave this to me to give to you when something happened to them. Here, take it," he said softly, handing her the ring.

_To heal is to love._ The inscription inside made her heart ache. It seemed to her that her parents loved their gift that they had forgotten to remember to love her more than their work. They died and left her alone because of it. Iradiel glanced at her beloved mother's face and clenched her eyes shut before standing up. "I--I have to..." and she walked out of the door almost bumping to the man who was the cause of her mother's death.

Iradiel disappeared into the bushes, leaving the man disturbed. He walked inside the cottage and found Gandalf quietly sitting near the dead healer's body, in deep thought. The side of the bed, damp from the girl's tears. But when he came closer to the bed, he gasped and stepped back.

The dampness turned into a crimson shade, much like blood. "Gandalf-" he started, alarmed.

Gandalf looked at the bed and then to the man with heaviness in his eyes, "Those are Iradiel's tears. Down by the river, she is weeping, not shedding tears but blood."

"But that's impossible!"

The old man shook his head and stood up next to the window and sighed, "Do you still not understand the extent of these healers' powers to you Aragorn, son of Arathorn?" He paused and rubbed his eyes with his gnarled hands. "Not only does Iradiel's mother the youngest sister of the Lady of the Woods, her father was an istar. And both branches are the direct descendants of the House of the Blood of the Healers."


	2. Chapter 01 Brush with Death

**Disclaimer:** Same disclaimers as before apply here.

**A/N:** i am NOT attempting to write a story soley based on Tolkien's world. i'm making my own characters that would be losely based on Tolkien's own so i hope this AN would remove all reviews that tell me that my story is inconsistent to Tolkien's cause it is MEANT to be inconsistent.

* * *

**Chapter 01 – Brush with Death**

Gimli, son of Groin, walked next to his companions as they entered the dense forest which was the only path that would lead them to Mirkwood. "How far are we from your kingdom Master Elf?" he inquired at the silent elf next to him. 

"A little more that five leagues from here," he answered quietly, grasping the dagger on his waist unconsciously. "Though I cannot be sure for if we were less than ten leagues from the palace, the palace guards would have been escorting us already, and yet, I cannot feel their presence," he added with a frown. "And something smells foul in the horizon," he thought to himself. 

"They may be here Legolas, you of all elves know that your own guards are highly trained in the art of silence," Aragorn said with a slight grin, but nonetheless grasping his sword securely to his side. "Thranduil would not be so careless as to no have his son unprotected even after the destruction of the ring. Especially since this homecoming will mean the passing of the crown already." 

"Don't remind me Aragorn. It's something I wish not to go through with but have to," Legolas answered heavily, briskly walking in front of the trio of travelers. "Father has been most insistent ever since the ring had been destroyed." 

"But I thought you were ready to take the crown for you have come back at Lord Thranduil's wishes," Gimli asked. "Don't you like the idea of ruling this magnificent kingdom?" 

"Oh I love this kingdom alright, 'tis the responsibilities I cannot take," he answered wryly at his friend. "Father is ready to pass on the crown for he knows that his time is past. But there are still too many things to experience and I have little interest in managing a kingdom. There's so much more than kingdom accounts, balls and parties and economic responsibilities," Legolas shuddered slightly at the job that lay before him. 

Even as a child, Legolas found ways to miss his responsibilities, wanting more to traipse through the forest and wander with his other friends who shared his love of complete freedom. He was at his happiest when he was in the forest, unbound by duties, parties and gatherings as well as maiden elves that fawned over him. _I find my horses more appealing than they are,_ he thought irritatedly. 

"That sounds a lot like someone we know," Gimli chuckled before grinning at Aragorn who rolled his eyes in response. "Glad I don't have that kind of responsibility, rather I'd be just visiting your splendid kingdoms to enjoy the delicious food and ale," he said jokingly. 

"I'll make sure these skilled guards will shoot you before you even step foot in my kingdom," Legolas said straight-faced at his vertically-challenged friend. "Don't tell me you actually enjoy the company of elves now Master Gimli," he teased before abruptly stopping in front of them. "Quiet," he commanded softly, looking ahead intensely. 

All three companions had their grips on their weapons immediately. Though the ring had been destroyed a few months back, they hadn't been completely free from the dangers that still lurked Middle Earth. Legolas heard the distant crumpling of leaves a couple of hundred paces from where they were. It dawned upon him that the chirping of the birds as well as the humming of the cicadas had stopped. They had their backs to each other, ready to do battle. 

The ominous wind blew the dried leaves at their direction along with a distinct growl. _Uruk-hai._ They'd know that sound anywhere. Unsheathing their weapons, the Uruk-Hai charged out of the dense coverings of the forest. Their growls emitting heathen breaths at the three companions. 

"567 for me, 498 for you Master Dwarf," Legolas reminded Gimli with a grin, before releasing his arrow to the nearest orc. "568!" 

"Not for long you arrogant, cheating elf!" Gimli roared, kicking the orc on his chest and embedding his axe on its chest. "499!" 

Contorted faces charged from all directions with steel clashing upon steel. Aragorn deftly lopped off the orc's head and straight to the next one's chest heaving the sword to the direction of the sudden invasion. Gimli emitted off a cry as he lumbered with his great axe at the orc. Five more jumped on top of him but he heaved them off him, chopping off arms and other orc parts. 

Then a loud rumbling came down the path like gray balls of lumpy parts. "Trolls! Aragorn!" Legolas shouted at his friend's way. Two massive trolls crushed every bush that was in their way as well as the fallen orcs to the direction where Gimli and Aragorn were. Three successive arrows pierced the first troll making it growl. It stood up and swung its arms. 

Aragorn and Legolas battled the trolls while Gimli continued his fight with the Uruk-Hai. Legolas jumped up a tree to have a better view of the battle ground and shoot his arrows accurately at the slimy orcs. Unbeknownst to him an orc followed him up and before the Elven prince could defend himself, the orc slashed his midsection with its filthy hands, removing a large portion of flesh, blood flowing out of his body. 

Legolas' eyes glazed over in pain but not before he planted his dagger on the orc's chest. Losing consciousness, Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, fell from the tree he was on moments before. 

Minutes later, Aragorn and Gimli subdued their enemies and surveyed the battle ground. "Where did those Uruk-hai surface from Aragorn?" Gimli asked, wiping orc blood from his arms. 

Aragorn surveyed the area that they were in and smiled thinly. "I should have known sooner. We are near a powerful healer's dwelling. Orcs love to _visit_ her home once in a while, how could I forget that," he asked himself, remembering his own visit in the healer's home. 

"Her?" Gimli inquired, pulling his axe from a fallen orc's body. 

"Her—Where is Legolas?" Aragorn asked, urgently scanning the ground before resting at the base of a tree. 

"Legolas!" Gimli shouted before running towards their fallen friend. Thick blood oozed from the elf's temple. Gimli gave off a shocked gasped as they both saw the exposed ribcage of the prince, blood coagulating on the rough clothing. "Oh dear spirits," he gasped. 

Aragorn shook himself from the shock that he was in and touched the elf's wrist for a pulse. "He still has a pulse." 


	3. Chapter 02 Pain Transcends

**Disclaimer:** Same disclaimers as before apply here.

**A/N:** i am NOT attempting to write a story soley based on Tolkien's world. i'm making my own characters that would be losely based on Tolkien's own so i hope this AN would remove all reviews that tell me that my story is inconsistent to Tolkien's cause it is MEANT to be inconsistent.

* * *

**Chapter 02 – Pain Transcends**

Amidst the swirling afternoon rays of the sun, eveyrthing in the forest seemed to be at peace except for the hurried crisp crunching of the autumn leaves beneath two frantic warriors' feet. Legolas, mangled physically by the deadly blow that had struck him was being carried in Aragorn's arms as fast as the ranger could take his friend without inflicting more pain. Blood had seeped right through his own tunic and was running down his trousers, made even more filthy by the passing grime of the forest.

The ranger came into a stop after five hundred paces from the battleground that they were in moments ago and into a large clearing seemingly protected by large beech trees forming a strong circle. Most of the afternoon light was filtered by the trees setting a soft glow into the clearing. At the far end of the northern side of the circle lay a small brook, as well as boulders as large as hills and as strong as cave troll's bodies and mithril combined. 

Not pausing to take a breath, Aragorn called out to the wind, "Iradiel, I seek your help!" Gimli stepped back at the sudden words of his companion calling out to a maiden. "Iradiel, I beg of you, I need your help," he shouted as he walked towards the boulders that he knew was the stronghold of the healer. 

A weak wisp of wind carried autumn leaves off the forest ground. Cool air rose from the seemingly enchanted state of the place when they heard a silent swishing of skirts come near them, yet was not seen. "Who dares to step into my home? Do you not care for pain that may be inflicted upon you and your companions?" 

"I would not risk our lives if it was not of great importance that this companion of ours should live," Aragorn answered urgently with a grave edge lacing his voice. There wasn't much time before the elf would cease to gasp for breath, his once-azure eyes were beginning to take on a duller color, and his face becoming pallid in complexion. 

"I have ceased to be the servant of any creature," a strong voice answered. "Your request falls in vain, stranger. You must leave." 

"Good lady, a friend of ours is mortally wounded, he must receive immediate help!" Gimli protested, anger lacing his voice at the rough refusal that was given to them. "Every passing second might be his last, it is not his destiny to pass through this eart just yet!" 

"And who are you to pass judgement on who shall live and who must die, stranger?" the voice questioned with a harder egde. "It may be your friend's fate and you must leave it at that." 

"You healed me once Iradiel and you know that my intentions are of noble intent. It will be a crime for you not to heal a fellow elf who in the brink of death! Show yourself to us for you to see who seeks your help," Aragorn demanded to the faceless voice. 

From behind the clearing, Iradiel walked out from the trees wherein she blended in so well without being seen. It was true that she did not know who was asking for her help. Coming closer to the two half-crazed travellers, she nodded towards them before placing her right hand on the elf's chest. If not for the Dunedain's advanced hearing, he would have not heard her sharp intake of breath seconds after resting her hand on the elf's. "It has been a long time since Aragorn, come with me quickly. He has no more than a few minutes to live," she said. She walked towards the boulders and reached for the opening of a secret door which was covered with vines and flowers. 

Another door leading to a smaller room was open. There, a bed with pristine white covers and downy pillows lain. Iradiel glanced at the elven prince as gasped for another breath, his eyes wildly dilating and moving about his sockets, and arrests had dawned on his chest. "Lay him down and close the door as you leave. Do _not_ open the door," she warned him, folding her dress sleeves up her arms. 

"Don't lose him Iradiel, please," the man asked the healer darkly. Upon seeing her nod, he closed the door shut, and barred them from the outside. 

_He is a strong one to live this long, but still, too much had been lost,_ she thought to herself, closing her eyes to begin healing the wounded elf. Blinding white light emanated from the body of the healer, her head arched back, her hair flowing above her head, only the whites of her eyes could be seen. Blue light came from the palms of her hands. They were above the torn midsection of the elf, knitting every torn sinew of flesh, connecting the bones that were broken, and tying the severed nerves. 

Excuciating pain shot through every pore of Iradiel's small frame, the pain of her patient transferring to her own body, inhaling it to consume it. It was as if her own flesh was being ripped from her body, blood pumping out of her, organs ceased to functing well. Only short gasps of breath were the only indication that she was holding on to her own life. The hardest part was over, the ceasing of the flow of blood from his body. The wave of nausea passed through her but was quickly swallowed. There was still much to do and he was still not yet out of the woods.

* * *

After barricading the room from the outside, Aragorn quickly walked back to Gimli to the door of the boulder house. "We must leave Gimli," he said wearily, grabbing his pack as he passed by the entrance. 

"Aragorn, you do not mean to leave Legolas with that...that witch healer!" Gimli protested, yet following Aragorn outside of the place. "We do not know what she may do to him while we are not there to protect him! He is wounded and cannot protect himself!" 

"Aye Gimli, for if we stay inside, we too, will die from Legolas' pain," he said grimly to his companion. Just as the front door closed, blue light seeped from the cracks of the door, touching Gimli's arm. The dwarf yelped in pain at the contact before briskly walking towards the human who stated himself a few paces from the entrance. "She is healing him now, he is in the best hands in Middle Earth," he said with a grim smile, remembering his own healing.

"Who is she Aragorn? She is an elf yet why is she alone in these woods, they do not separate themselves from their kin," Gimli said, avoiding the blue light coming from the door. He reached for his pipe in the pack and lighted it, a frown creasing his wrinkled brow.

"I know not much about her, only that she has healed me before," Aragorn answered, before lifting the left sleeve of his tunic, showing the dwarf of the darker portion of the arm. "Hydaras poison killed my flesh, she assisted her mother in removing the poison. Lunthaniel died because of the extraction," he said, with a trace of remorse in his voice.

"Her mother died because..." the dwarf trailed in confusion. "How? She merely healed you."

The ranger shook his head, "Nay, she extracted the poison _into_ her own body to heal me. That is the way of the Auvreatylars, the highest order of healers in Middle Earth. She failed to control the poison and it overcame her body, killing her."

"You mean, Iradiel's mother...you?"

"Yes, it was because of me that he mother died. Gandalf begs to differ, of course, but to know that you are the cause of a parent's death, it makes you feel low," he said bitterly.

The two companions rested comfortably outside the boulder house in an uneasy silence. Both were scared of the outcome of what might happen to their comrade but at the same time thinking of the connection between Aragorn and Iradiel's family. Hours passed, the sun began to set and yet, the unceasing blue light from the house did not falter.


End file.
